I Entrust Her to You
by LivingInAnotherUniverse
Summary: "I trusted you!" I shouted. "And you failed me! Now my love is gone, all because of you!" "Clopin, wait!"
1. Prologue - Necessary Wisdom

**Prologue: Necessary Wisdom**

I walked into the cathedral hesitantly. Sure, I had preformed in front of it, seven hells, I had hosted the Festival of Fools in front of it, but never had I ever been INSIDE it. There was a difference, surely.

An alter boy greeted me with a smile. I felt my stomach twist with nervousness for no real reason.

"Clopin!" the boy whispered excitedly. "What brings you of all people to Notre Dame?"

I smiled. "Fetch the Archdeacon, if you would, you silly excitable boy." I recognized him as a caravan follower, and orphan that my people had adopted once upon a time. I was glad he had found a place to be. "I have need of his wisdom."


	2. Answered Questions

**Chapter 1: Answered Questions**

"Clopin Trouillefou, King of Fools, Master of the Court of Miracles. You are not unknown to me – many of your people have come to me before," the Archdeacon said.

I raised my eyebrows, then shrugged. "It makes no difference to me if they feel the need to talk to a priest. Most of us are men and women of faith. But that is not why I have come here … I have questions that need answering."

"And I might have the answers to your questions," the Archdeacon responded.

"A few days ago, a woman of my Court went missing. I have heard rumors, whispers that she might be here." I sighed, playing with the eyeholes in my purple mask. "Her name was Phaedra."

"There was a gypsy girl that came last night. Long hair, black as night. Fair features. She had a string of coins around her forehead … I don't know if she was one of yours, or a passing traveler. We have yet to bury her."

"Dead!" I gasped; my stricken eyes met the Archdeacon's calm ones. "Oh no, please God no!" I turned away to hide the sudden tears. "No no no … this wasn't supposed to happen, it was perfectly planned. We planned for everything …"

I stumbled out of the room and onto the streets. I paid no heed to the people that called out to me, wondering at the tears on my face. I stumbled through the streets of Paris, blind to the world of men.

Habit brought me to the graveyard entrance of my court – the Court of Miracles. I tried to compose myself before shoving the stone away to reveal the steps to the sewers. But the grief was too great. I went down red eyed, and not from the stench.


	3. Into the Past

**Chapter 2: Into the Past**

You are probably wondering why the King of Fools was showing such a display of emotion. That is where our story really begins, for I was a fool to reveal the middle without telling the beginning or end. What a fool I can be….

I grew up on a caravan, as many of us gypsies did. I learned from an early age that coinage was necessary, and tricks and stealing wasn't necessarily a bad thing. If preforming on the streets put food in your belly, was it a bad thing?

Surely not.

That was when I met Philippe. We were raised together, learned together, were never far from each other's sight. And it stayed that way for the longest time.

Philippe and I were opposites from each other – where he went for brute force and strength with a sword, I preferred to sneak and steal. Where he was broad shouldered, muscular, handsome even, I was, well, scrawny.

I can still remember the day I met him and his sister.

'_This is stupid. Why do they always pick on me?' I thought to myself as I ran between tents at our campsite. The sun was setting; it's light blinding me. I couldn't see where I was going, so of course I ran into something. _

_No, not something. Someone._

_Sitting in the dirt, I stared up at him. Tall, dark haired and dark eyed, he had to be two or three years older then myself. _

"_I'm so sorry, monsieur," I muttered, trying to get up. He held out his hand to help me, which I took gratefully. "Thanks."_

"_It's no problem, boy. What's your name?" He smiled, eyes dancing in merriment._

"_Clopin__." I tried to brush most of the dirt off of my pants; Mother would have a fit again if I came back dirty._

"_Philippe. Why were you running? It looked like you had Satan and all of his demons after you, or worse, city guards."_

_I laughed uneasily, without smiling. "No reason…"_

"_Liar."_

_I shrugged. "I have to go. My parents …"_

"_We'll take you back. It's no worry." It wasn't until she spoke did I notice the girl standing behind Philippe. I was struck dumb – she was beautiful. _

"_Clopin, this is my sister, Phaedra," Philippe said with sigh. "Pay no mind to her, she's an impertinent little minx, aren't you, my sweet sister?"_

_A glob of saliva left her red lips and hit the corner of his eye before he even stopped speaking. He wiped it away with a grin. "I thought as much." _

_She stuck out her tongue and stood next to me. "Where's your tent? I'll take you back." _

_I smiled gratefully, and gestured in the direction I had come. _

"_Won't your brother follow us?" I asked._

"_He's not nearly as tough as he tries to be, little Clopin. He backs down easily enough, if you know how to handle him." She laughed easily. "He won't follow if he knows what's good for him." _

_We walked for a little while in silence. I would call it awkward silence, but it didn't matter. She was the most beautiful girl I hade ever seen; I was too busy staring. _

"_How old are you, little Clopin?" Phaedra asked suddenly. _

_I met her dark eyes, startled out of my daydreams. "Almost fourteen, mademoiselle," I replied. If there was anything my father had taught me about girls, be polite. Especially to the pretty ones. _

"_So old!" she exclaimed. "I figured you to be at least my age, twelve!"_

"_I'm small for my age. Always have been."_

Such was Phaedra.


	4. The Years Pass

**Chapter 3: The Years Pass**

The years had changed us both. As my mind expanded with the knowledge of knife fighting, thieving, and love, I grew. Taller, taller, and taller still, but I still wasn't taller then Philippe. And I was still all elbows and knees, and seemingly doomed to stay that way.

She had grown as well over the three years I had known her. Taller, stronger, faster. And more beautiful by the day. She had grown as any girl transitioning to a woman will—full and curvy.

She was beautiful inside and out, and I loved her.

I was seventeen when I professed my love for Phaedra.

When I asked Philippe if he would consent, he laughed. He laughed and laughed and laughed. Through his laughter, he asked if I knew exactly what I was getting into, to which I responded yes. We had gotten our fair share of being spat upon by his little sister.

That day I asked her.

Sitting in my corner of the Court of Miracles, I closed my eyes against the tears and remembered all I could of that day:

_The horses galloped underneath us as we rode into the streets of Paris. The bells tolled in the distance, telling the time. It was around noon. Going to an inn I knew was run by a gypsy like ourselves, Phaedra and I left our horses for our own two feet. We strolled through the markets and everywhere around the city. Our wanderings were aimless, but they lead us to the doors of the cathedral. Notre Dame._

_I sat on the steps, tugging Phaedra down with me. She leaned against me, head against my shoulder. I wrapped an arm around her small waist and smiled. _

"_Phaedra," I said quietly. Not quite a whisper, but not in a conversational manner. "I told you I had a surprise for you, did I not?"_

"_You did …" She was wary, uncertain of where I going with this. She met my eyes, questioning. _

_I smiled and kissed the top of her head. "Marry me." _

_I felt her stiffen against my chest, and I stiffened in response. She drew back, eyes darting back and forth over my face. I smiled hesitantly, tilting my head to one side in inquiry. _

"_Please," I whispered._

_She stood, breaking eye contact. I sagged in defeat, and buried my head in my hands. I began to curse my stupidity when she spoke. _

"_Clopin."_

_I glance up expecting to hear an apology. But her hand was outstretched to me, and she was smiling. "I thought you wanted to get married. Why are you still sitting there?"_

"_Is that a yes?" I asked in disbelief. She nodded, a sly smile on her red lips._

_I took her hand and lead her to a small church near Notre Dame. I when she inquired as to why, I just shook my head. "The Archdeacon is Judge Frollo's man. He'll turn us in."_

We were married that day in a small ceremony. Just the priest and us.

It was the best day of my life.


	5. Children

**Chapter 5: Children**

I let out a shuddering sigh, angry with myself for being weak. I was the King, I could not show such emotion, my people would replace me otherwise.

"Clopin?" a small voice asked from outside my hollow in the Court of Miracles. "Are you in there?"

"Yes, I'm in here," I called, sitting up.

The tiny face of a green-eyed girl peeked through the curtain. She smiled, lighting up the small space.

"Esmeralda, child!" I smiled. "Why are you here? Where is your mother?"

"She's gone. Mama said she was going to bring home more food. I hope she gets something sweet, they're my favorite!" Esmeralda smiled innocently.

"I'm sure that's true," I smiled back, relaxing. "Run along now, I'll be telling stories later tonight, and I need to think of something good." I winked.

The already happy child's face brightened considerably. "Okay, Clopin!" She laughed as she ran off to tell her friends playing on the other side of the Court.

I sighed, knowing that I would have to come up with a new story, but not particularly wanting to think about it.

Children made me happy, for whatever reason. Phaedra, for years, did not want a child. It wasn't until she was eighteen, and I twenty, that she changed her mind.

That memory always makes me laugh, the day she changed her mind. It was sudden, but not painful. Not painful in the slightest.

But, for whatever reason, my darling girl could not carry a child to term. God had seemingly willed that my beautiful wife could not have a child.

We tried, though. Over and over, we tried. Over the course of our ten-year marriage, she had five pregnancies. Two were stillborn, a boy and a girl. Two did not stay long enough for gender to be determined.

But a ray of hope came, and stayed.

We named the little boy Rousseau, or "little red haired one". Because that was the color of his hair, and it fit.

It mattered not that our child was deformed, that little Rousseau would be considered a demon or a monster. It mattered not that he looked nothing like the either of us. He was our little one, and we loved him.


	6. The Plan

**Chapter 6: The Plan**

Two years had passed since my marriage to Phaedra, and I had quickly fallen in with the gypsies of Paris. By the time I was twenty, I had become the King of Fools.

I'm twenty-seven now.

Phaedra was my Queen, both in title and in my heart. There were plenty of attractive women in my Court, but none held my eye as she did. A good thing too, because she caught the eye of many a man of my Court as soon as she joined me in Paris.

Philippe, Phaedra's brother and my dearest friend, ran his own caravan that went around France and Germany. He stopped in Paris for two weeks every year.

The last time Philippe had come, almost a year ago to the day, Phaedra had just found that she was pregnant again. Paris was being consumed by plague. Philippe's caravan was leaving early, before the members of his band could become sick.

Phaedra left with him, at my request. Not really a request—it took far too much pleading to make her leave. She did not want to leave me, nor I her. But I did not want her to be in Paris, not then. It was too dangerous.

Through that year, we wrote to each other. Philippe had taught me to read and write almost as soon as he had met me, and it was very useful. Many a messenger was eager to get out of the city.

A new Archdeacon was appointed to the cathedral as soon as the plague passed. He was more open, more forgiving to everyone. We no longer avoided the cathedral of Notre Dame, in fact, many of my Court visited often. The Archdeacon was not Frollo's man.

Judge Claude Frollo blamed us gypsies for the plague, so everyone followed suit. He longed to purge the world of vice and sin, so gypsies were the answer. I did not follow the logic.

After Rousseau was born, an increase of city guards made it almost impossible for gypsies to come into the city. We had to sneak in. Judge Frollo couldn't do much about us that were already here, but that was because we were hidden too well.

So, I had to sneak my wife and child back into the city.

The plan was one that we had gone through many times with other members of our Court. A boat under the docks, then to the nearest entrance to the Court of Miracles, which was only 200 meters from the docks.

But apparently, that didn't work this time.

I have never seen Rousseau. All I have of him is a set of letters and a drawing. That is how I knew my son, a simple drawing, but that was enough to know that I loved him.

The Queen of my heart was dead. Presumably my child was too.


End file.
